Wednesday, March 3, 2010


Thirty five thousand, seventeen days
have passed since a world changed, a

plate of cheese fighting the elements, moved
to a heavier plate. The pretty orange one

whose chip became a crack, left
broken lying next to unwashed

shriveling grapes on un-kept counter
while worms eat through to the core of

waiting granny smith apples in a dusty
fruit basket: once, shiny and green before

decay and gray matter took over. There
is a chance life can be revived with tears

life springs running over the edge of vessels
here and there on the floor-

a house; a home, left to nature, to chance
in torrential storms, or over flow-

of a sink full of dirty dishes
sitting under a ticking clock

hanging next to this years calendar.

© E Stelling

Difficulties mastered are opportunities won- Winston Churchill


blueviolet said...

Holy crap. I really loved this one! Like really, really!

Bryan Borland said...

This one is a punch to the gut, having witnessed my mom lose a child. Excellent work.

farmlady said...

OMG! This is a powerful poem. I'm at a loss for words...

Chef E said...

This poem Blueviolet I suspect could fit divorce, depression, and most anything along side losing someone you love no matter a child, parent, sister, etc...

Thanks Farmlady, and Bryan that is how I wrote it, a look at my mother's mental illness too...